Unhappy Ever After... Continued: For Angel
by Kalliroscope
Summary: RENTfic. Sequel to Unhappy Ever After. Rated PG13 for some language and slash implications. More like PG10, really.


Working title: Unhappy Ever After. Continued: For Angel  
  
Disclaimer: Roger, Collins, Joanne, Mark, Maureen, Benny (I don't think he was even mentioned in this fic, though, poor guy), and of course, the wonderful Angel Dumott Schunard aren't mine (unfortunately), they're the property of the late great Jonathan Larson (*bows down* I am not worthy.). I'm just using them for my own twisted, angsty purposes. Any lawsuit will be laughed at dismissively, as I'm seriously in debt right now (RENT tickets cost a lot, ya know!!). So don't bother.  
  
Warning: Really Long Author's Note Ahead!  
  
After writing Unhappy Ever After, my twisted M/R fic, I got a lot of reviews telling me that I should write another chapter, or a sequel. I hadn't been planning to, but as I read those reviews I started thinking maybe I should. After all, UEA had been written in response to a review in the first place, when someone told me that I ought to write an M/R story. But I didn't really do anything about it.  
  
Then I was home alone one day, pretty much all day, and was sitting on the computer (yes, I took that opportunity to get online! Why do you ask?), listening to ABBA, and staring at the screen. I was playing Hearts. I was pretty bored, as ff.n wasn't working so I couldn't browse the fics. Then, all of a sudden, inspiration struck. Writer's block lifted (thank whatever gods there be). And I pulled up Microsoft Word and started writing.  
  
After finishing, and after massaging my hands back to life (I type WAY too fast for my own good), I re-read the story. How the hell had I managed to get to kill off Angel? That was SO not the way I'd started! This was meant to be a Mark/Roger fic, not a Look-how-sad-Collins-is fic! But I liked the way it had turned out, even though it was unexpected. So I kept it. And posted it on fanfiction.net the moment that wonderful website was back up.  
  
I do hope that those people who told me I ought to write a sequel to UEA aren't displeased with this slightly unexpected story. I really like it. Actually, I really like all of the RENTfics I've written so far (of which there are now a grand total of three). And I do have a personal attachment to each and every story I've written. even the terrible ones, of which I don't think For Angel is. I hope other people agree with me!  
  
  
  
It had been a few weeks since Mark's disastrous confession to Roger. In those few weeks, surprisingly little had happened. true to his word, Roger appeared to have decided it hadn't happened, and Mark decided to keep silent, rather than face whatever 'unpleasant' fate Roger had determined for his punishment.  
  
Life at the loft was now unpleasant enough - though neither Roger nor Mark brought it up, the 'incident' loomed overhead, clouding their friendship. Roger no longer talked to Mark in the light-hearted way he used to. No more random chats. No more joking around.  
  
On the day our story begins, Roger had just gone out. He had given no explanation, just a vaguely mumbled 'I'm going to go. on a walk or something'. Mark sat alone in the loft, scowling at the wall.  
  
"I should've taken Angel's advice," he said out loud. "Whatever possessed me to do what MAUREEN, of all people, suggested? Especially in a case like this?"  
  
No answer was forthcoming, either from the wall or anything else in the apartment. Mark sighed.  
  
"It's my own fault," he admitted, still talking out loud. "If I hadn't been so desperate to end my personal stalemate, he'd still be my friend. not lover, maybe, but is he that now?"  
  
The answer was quite obviously no. Mark stood up. "I'm going to have another chat with Angel," he decided. "She gave me good advice last time, even if I didn't take it.  
  
"I'll take her advice this time," Mark added as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair he'd been sitting on, and, throwing it on, left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.  
  
************************  
  
Mark stood outside the door to Collins and Angel's current residence, a little nervous. He had screwed things up pretty badly before; would Angel be able to give him any advice at all, much less any that could untangle this knot?  
  
His thoughts were interrupted when the door was opened by a red-eyed Collins.  
  
"Hi - uh - I wanted to talk to Angel," Mark said uncertainly.  
  
Collins gave a sick smile. "Do you have a medium?" he said weakly.  
  
A cold feeling crept through Mark's body, chilling his blood. "What do you mean?" he asked.  
  
"Angel's dead," Collins replied. "Didn't you get the message I left you on your answering machine? Two days ago?"  
  
"You know Roger and I never listen to that thing," Mark said absently, stunned. "My mom calls too often. dead?"  
  
Collins nodded slowly. "Come in," he said, opening the door wider. Mark obeyed.  
  
Collins closed the door and stood in front of it, his hand still on the knob as he looked scrutinisingly at Mark.  
  
"Angel was admitted to the hospital a few days ago," he said, his voice surprisingly steady for someone who had so recently lost the love of his life. "I called the loft. left a message. You should really start listening to the machine more."  
  
Now his voice cracked, and he stumbled across the room towards a couch, which he fell into. Staring at his hands, Collins went on helplessly. "She. she died, and I couldn't do anything at all to help her. she just left. I tried to make things easier for her, happier for her. but she's gone. Just dead."  
  
Mark wasn't sure what to say. He had come over full of his own problems, planning to bemoan his fate to the ever-sympathetic drag queen that was Angel Dumott Schunard, and was now confronted with a scene he had prayed would never happen.  
  
Angel was dead, and Collins was alone.  
  
Mark sat down on the couch next to Collins, rather awkwardly putting his arm around the grieving man's shoulders. "I'm. really, really sorry," he said, hoping that was the right thing to say.  
  
Collins looked up at Mark, his brown eyes filled with tears. "I'm alone."  
  
*Proof that there's no God, or at least not a loving one,* Mark thought bleakly. *How could any caring deity allow a tragedy like this to occur?*  
  
************************  
  
Mark closed the door gently behind him as he re-entered his own loft. After comforting Collins as much as he could, he had left the other man asleep on the couch, tears still in his eyes. Now Mark stood in the doorway of the apartment he shared with Roger. and suddenly his own problems seemed terribly insignificant.  
  
It was his own fault, everything that had come between him and Roger. But what sin had Angel committed that she had died so young? What had Collins done that he deserved to be left alone and empty like that?  
  
"Why?" Mark wondered aloud, as he remembered the look on Collins's face when he'd talked about Angel, lying on the hospital bed, smiling sadly at him as she died.  
  
"Why?" Mark said again, as he remembered sitting beside the drag queen on the park bench that day three weeks ago, when she had given him advice he had, stupidly, not followed.  
  
"Why?!" Mark screamed, as he remembered the time he had first met Angel, being introduced to her by Collins. recognising the love on the computer genius's face as he looked at the street drummer. The love on Angel's face as she looked at Collins.  
  
"Why what?" Roger asked, coming in the door.  
  
Mark turned to Roger, his eyes burning. "Angel's dead," he snapped.  
  
Roger froze, silent.  
  
"Angel's dead, and Collins is back at their apartment, grieving more than anyone should have to," Mark continued, growing inexplicably angry with his roommate.  
  
Roger still didn't say anything.  
  
"I'm sorry for anything I did that. that estranged us," Mark said, taking a deep breath, trying hard to calm down. "But you really ought to stop acting like a god-damned, selfish idiot sometimes, you know that? Stop caring so much about your own life and happiness for just half a moment and realise that other people matter, too!"  
  
Mark stormed away to the other room, fuming, and leaving Roger standing, still and silent, in the doorway.  
  
************************  
  
Mark didn't come out of the bedroom until an hour later, but when he did it was to the sound of Roger's guitar being plaintively strummed.  
  
"Before you say anything," Roger said from his position on the floor, his eyes fixed on the sheet of music propped up against the guitar's case in front of him, "I want you to know that Collins just called."  
  
"What did he say?" Mark asked dully.  
  
"He said Angel's funeral is tomorrow," Roger replied.  
  
Feeling oddly calm now that his anger had been spent, Mark nodded and leaned against the wall. "All right," he said.  
  
Roger's fingers halted in their tuneless strumming. His eyes lifted from the music and met Mark's. "I'm sorrier than you are," he said softly. "You forget, I lost a friend when that happened, too. and you're right, I. I can be pretty selfish sometimes."  
  
Roger paused.  
  
Mark didn't say anything, and after a moment Roger continued. "But you're wrong when you say that I don't realise other people's matter. I do. Collins matters, Joanne matters, Mimi matters. I guess even Benny matters, though that's pushing it."  
  
He made a wry face, but Mark didn't grin.  
  
"So what are you trying to say?" the film-maker asked.  
  
Roger sighed, and lowered his gaze to his guitar once more. "I guess what I'm trying to say is. I wish we could just go on being friends, like we were before. Because. Angel always told us, told everyone, to. to be happy, to go easy on each other, too. So, for Angel."  
  
"For Angel," Mark agreed.  
  
Roger grinned suddenly, and laid down his guitar. "For Angel," he said, standing up and grabbing Mark in a tight, unexpected hug.  
  
************************  
  
EPILOGUE:  
  
The funeral was a saddening business. yet, somehow, it was uplifting at the same time. It was oddly cheering to see Collins, standing beside Angel's grave with a strange little half-grin on his face. to hear him saying afterwards to Joanne, in a very sincere sounding voice, "Angel tried to make people happy. Could I let her life's work go to waste by being unhappy?  
  
"Sure, I'm going to miss her. I won't deny that," he said, blinking as he glanced at the grave. "But you can grieve and still experience a happy life."  
  
Mark had brought his camera to the funeral - he felt slightly ashamed, and more than a little ghoulish for wanting to record the tragic day on film, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't filmed during the ceremony, but had been getting a shot of Angel's grave when he heard Collins speaking with Joanne.  
  
Without another word, Mark turned off his camera and put it away in his bag. Collins' words had been caught on film - that moment, both uplifting and terribly saddening, would be preserved forever.  
  
*For Angel,* Mark thought as he swallowed back the sadness that had been with him since Collins had first informed him of the drag queen's tragic death.  
  
"For Angel."  
  
************************  
  
The End! 


End file.
